


I Write Your Name

by Rroselavy



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rroselavy/pseuds/Rroselavy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things Sanzo cannot protect Goku from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Write Your Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ditch_gospel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ditch_gospel).



_I write your name  
On my naked fright  
For the final time, I write your name tonight_  
\- Jim Carroll

It was well after midnight when Goku finally slipped back into the room that they were sharing, Sanzo having managed to secure two at the inn for the evening. By that point Sanzo had already cycled through a brief period of contrition for being harsh with Goku over his maudlin thoughts, to being concerned by his extended absence, then relieved when Gojyo reported having seen Goku engrossed in playing games at the local arcade, and finally, as hours passed in solitude, pissed off that a rare night to themselves was being squandered. Never mind that it was his own damned fault; as Hakkai had admonished in his singularly oblique style, Sanzo needed to at least try to be more sensitive to Goku's feelings. Sanzo had to admit that he'd been a little callous.

He rose from the bed and gave Goku a quick once-over before crushing his slender frame against the door, his hands fisting the soft hair that haloed Goku's face.

"You're late," Sanzo murmured, a soft contrast to his actions.

"Sanzo, I—"

"Shut up." His lips met Goku's in a ferocious kiss and Sanzo ground his hips against Goku's, leaving little confusion that all had been forgotten, if not yet forgiven.

Goku raised one hand and his fingers tangled in Sanzo's hair, the pads then traced the shell of his ear before they ghosted reverently over his face. The smell of something vaguely antiseptic permeated Sanzo's aroused state, wrinkling his nose; he broke the kiss to find its source. His eyes came upon a reddened patch of flesh on Goku's near wrist, its surface marred by a series of black lines.

"What the hell is that?" he hissed.

"A tattoo—" Goku answered, his voice tentative.

"I can see that!" Sanzo barked. He stared hard in disbelief at the inconspicuous kanji etched into the skin of Goku's wrist for a full five seconds before wielding the _harisen_ with alacrity.

"You. Stupid. Idiot. Monkey!" he shouted, each word punctuated by a resounding _thwack_.

"Sanzo, STOP!" Goku raised his arm, but only to shield his head from the pummeling.

"What kind of a moron gets someone else's name _permanently_ tattooed on them?" The fan clattered to the floor and Sanzo's hand shot out to catch the offending arm in a vise-like grip, wrenching it forward for a better view.

"I—I—"

"You what?" Sanzo growled. "Lost that little pea-sized brain that rattles around between your ears? Please tell me that the damned kappa got you liquored up and put you up to this, so I can kill him too," he added, his voice ripe with exasperation.

"Sanzo! No! Gojyo had nothing to do with this! I—" Goku stuttered to a stop and drew in a breath. "Itsjustthatidontwannaforgetyourname!" he exhaled.

"Now I know you're pie-eyed!" Sanzo's nose sniffed harshly at Goku's breath, which was oddly alcohol-free. He let out a sharp, derisive snort and then began to rub viciously at his throbbing temples, alternately glaring at the gracefully executed characters and muttering about stupid monkeys with their stupid half-baked ideas. At least it was a decent job, he finally acknowledged to himself.

"Permanent," he grated, though, echoing his disbelief.

"My wristband will hide it," Goku offered.

"That's not the point." Sanzo replied, his voice taking on that dead quality that could send shivers up the bravest, or even stupidest foe's spine. He dropped Goku's arm and stalked back to the bed, sitting down on it heavily. Just the thought of his name written on Goku's skin made feel him feel slightly nauseous. Like the monkey was some sort of possession, his to be exact.

"What the hell possessed you?" The question was rhetorical but Sanzo knew Goku would do his best to answer it.

"I just don't want to forget you," he replied softly. Goku toed off his boots, and then padded across the room to kneel uncertainly at Sanzo's feet, his head bowed. "What if ... what if after you die, They lock me up again and take away my memories again?"

He didn't have the heart to point out that if the Gods chose to dispense with Goku's memories after he died, erasing the ink under the monkey's skin was a no-brainer.

It occurred to Sanzo then what Goku's little act of rebellion was really about. In all the time that Sanzo had known him, Goku had never fretted about the things that had been taken from him; but this, this _relationship_, or whatever it was that had grown between them, this meant something to Goku, this was something that he dreaded losing. That revelation made Sanzo's stomach lurch violently and he became filled with rage. He could deal with the sentence that he'd delivered Goku from, but there was nothing he could do to prevent his inevitable decline, and he didn't like it that Goku was actually thinking about their ultimate fate, agonizing over it, actually _hurting_ because of it.

"You know, if I wanted to listen to deep thoughts or engage in philosophical discourse, I'd bunk with Hakkai," Sanzo sighed, no longer able to remain angry with Goku. As it was, he thought Goku handled the situation with far more grace than he'd be able to muster, given the same circumstances.

"Yeah, but Hakkai'd make you pick up your socks."

A fleeting smile twitched at the corners Sanzo's lips. "You have a point," he allowed.

"Are you mad?" Goku ventured after a few minutes of silence had passed. He laid his chin upon Sanzo's knee, liquid gold eyes gazing into violet, imploring him.

"No, at least not at you." Sanzo's fingers threaded through the soft strands of Goku's hair.

"I—I can get it removed."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I can keep it?"

Sanzo nodded his head. "Come here. You're so worried about the future that you've nearly wasted the entire night. Separate rooms are hard to come by, you know."

Goku crawled into his lap, straddling him, and Sanzo ran his hands over Goku's muscular back. His fingers tugged at the hem of Goku's shirt and they both lifted it up and over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Goku nuzzled his head under Sanzo's chin, and sighed contentedly before he tipped his chin up.

"I'm so—"

Sanzo kissed him then, cutting off his apology.

"Damned noisy," he grumbled when Goku moaned into his mouth with need and desire. "And whiny, and _always_ hungry," he continued between kisses. "And a pain in my ass," he added, his hands cupping Goku's bottom as his teeth nipped down the column of Goku's throat. Goku's back arched and he rubbed his groin against Sanzo's belly.

"Sanzo," he breathed out, his arms closing about the monk's neck, pulling Sanzo's head downward.

He laid a trail of open-mouthed kisses across Goku's chest to one pointed, dusky nipple. "And needy." Sanzo's hot breath ghosted over the sensitive skin, causing it to pucker and tighten. He flicked his tongue over the nub, eliciting a wanton groan to fall from Goku's parted lips.

"And damned fuckable."

Sanzo twisted them until he had managed to get Goku onto his back, reclined on the bed. The springs groaned with the added weight, the squeaky noise echoing off of the bare walls of the small room. Sanzo worked at the belt that held Goku's loose-fitting jeans fast while Goku stretched out luxuriously, arms thrown carelessly above his head.

"So then fuck me already," Goku challenged playfully, the husky quality to his voice sending a twinge of desire shooting through Sanzo's body. He yanked the jeans off of Goku's hips, taking his under shorts with them, then made quick work of his own garments, slipping a vial of lubricant out of his pocket before he discarded his jeans to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He spread some of the liquid onto his fingers, and, eyes still pinned to Goku's face, Sanzo circled his entrance with one slender digit.

"Fuck that!" Goku exclaimed with a hint of irritation, resting his arm across his forehead. "Stretch me with your dick!" Sanzo glanced up, momentarily distracted by the new mark on Goku's wrist. He groaned then as Goku's words sunk in and his cock pulsed from the mere thought of being sheathed in that impossible heat and being able to feel Goku's muscles stretch around his length, adjusting to the sudden girth.

"And so fucking demanding," Sanzo rasped as he palmed his shaft to adequately transfer the lubricant. He positioned himself between Goku's legs, his cock an insistent pressure at Goku's opening. Dipping his head, he teethed at Goku's right nipple, then trailed kisses to the other and duplicated his actions, while he continued to rock into the tight ring of muscles that the tip of his sex was pressed against.

"Sanzo!" Goku cried breathily, "Hurry up!"

He'd never admit it, but Goku's demands were a huge turn on, and it was all Sanzo could do to maintain his agonizing control and not hurt either of them in his haste. Goku's body opened up to him excruciatingly slow—drawing Sanzo in, inch by inch. As he worked his way in, a sheen of sweat broke out over both their bodies. Sanzo grunted a string of curses when he was encased to the hilt inside Goku, and Goku crossed his ankles over the small of Sanzo's back, squeezing their hips together.

"Move, damn it!" Goku thrashed his head back and forth against the pillow. At any other time, his order would have garnished him at minimum a sound beating with _harisen_ and/or with Sanzo's fists, but there on his hands and knees, Goku's perfect body writhing beneath him and wrapped around him, the only thing that Sanzo's brain could make sense of was how fucking good it felt, and how much better it would be once he began to slide in and out of that silken passage.

He pulled out almost all the way only to slam back in, the force knocking Goku's head against the slats of the headboard, and, in turn, the headboard against the wall. It registered that the bed was positioned against an outside wall, meaning there would be no neighbors to disturb. Sanzo smiled to himself, then licked his lips as he found a fierce rhythm. Soon, the room was filled with their grunts and moans, the rasping of labored breaths that hitched and were released into long sighs, the rhythmic knocking of wood on plaster, accompanied by a cacophony of raucous mattress springs. Goku was clinging to Sanzo for dear life, his arms hooked around Sanzo's neck, thighs squeezing against his hips. His teeth scraped along Sanzo's neck between gasps and moans; Sanzo was grateful the high collar of his leathers would hide any abrasions, of which he was sure there would be.

There was a desperation in Goku's sounds and actions and Sanzo almost wished it was because his lover was drunk, that could be fixed with a good night's rest and a belly full of comfort food. But this was something he couldn't make right; eventually, he would die and leave Goku behind. His impotence enraged him. He was seething inside, railing at the Gods; cursing them for their indifferent cruelty.

Suddenly he felt weightless, Goku's arms had slipped from their secure hold around his neck. One arm was flung carelessly over his head while the other slid between their bodies to stroke his neglected erection in time to Sanzo's thrusts.

Sanzo rested his elbows on either side of Goku's head, one hand reached for Goku's outstretched as Sanzo captured his pliant lips in a hungry kiss. The shift in his position and the feel of Goku's hand feathering against his abdomen as he pleasured himself sent sparks shooting down Sanzo's spine, a coil unwinding slowly in his gut, building up to his climax. His fingers touched the hot skin of Goku's wrist, reading over the raised imprint of kanji as if it were Braille. Goku hissed a breath into his mouth; Sanzo was unconcerned by the discomfort his action had wrought. He tilted his head up and gazed at the careful lines through the fringe of his hair, then brought Goku's wrist to his lips.

Goku let out a ragged sob and Sanzo released his hand, only to tangle both of his in Goku's chestnut locks. He felt the heat of Goku's release coating his abdomen, and the muscles of Goku's channel squeeze along his length. Sanzo's balls tightened and drew against his body, he slowed and thrust deeply a few more times before he came deep inside of Goku. He continued to thrust, riding out the waves of bliss before his knees gave out and he collapsed upon Goku's smaller frame. He rolled their bodies then, his softened cock slipping out of its sheath. They lay side-by-side facing each other, still caught in their embrace, their chests heaving.

He had no answers; no comforting words, no Buddhist tenets with which to admonish Goku. Sanzo could only hold him in his arms and silently implore the Gods that he despised and derided that this knowledge not be allowed to drive Goku mad with grief. He felt like a hypocrite though, he was all too conscious of how his master's death had, and still affected him.

After their breathing had returned to normal and the sweat had evaporated from their bodies, Sanzo extracted himself from the bed and padded to the bath to clean up, returning with a damp washcloth and towel. For a second he contemplated tossing it onto Goku as he always did—he was no one's maid—but Sanzo thought the better of it and came to sit on the edge of the bed. He leaned over and gently blotted over the tattoo and then cleaned Goku's hand.

"Turn over," he ordered roughly.

Grumbling under his breath, Goku rolled bonelessly onto his back and Sanzo carefully swabbed down his torso and then dried him off. He pulled the bed linens up, settling them around Goku's drowsy form. From his perch, Sanzo gazed into Goku's unfocused eyes and watched as they slowly lidded and sleep claimed him.

After a while, Sanzo sighed and threaded a thin hand through his damp bangs. He stood then bent to pick up his discarded clothing, pulled on his jeans and then stretched out on the other bed. For a long time after Goku's breathing had evened out, he laid awake, staring at the shadows that crossed the ceiling. When Goku finally stirred again, sunrays were falling across the beds and Sanzo was no closer to any kind of answer.

He watched as Goku raised his wrist above his head and gazed at the tattoo. And then something occurred to Sanzo.

"At least you had the sense to make it small," he commented. Goku turned his head, eying Sanzo questioningly. "That way it'll be eons before that arm is filled up." Goku continued to gaze at Sanzo for a few seconds longer, a small furrow forming between his brows, until the meaning of Sanzo's statement dawned on him and a broad grin broke over his face.


End file.
